


reprise, refrain

by obstinateRixatrix



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (kind of), Also Give Her Love And Support Because She's Been Through A Lot, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ensemble Cast, Episode Rewrite: s03e04 Hole in the Sky, Gen, Let Allura Be More Valid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-04 05:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12764244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obstinateRixatrix/pseuds/obstinateRixatrix
Summary: When the castle picks up an Altean distress signal, Allura desperately hopes to find surviving Alteans.She does - just not in the way she was expecting.





	1. same song, different chorus

**Author's Note:**

> based on (with permission) [the post by tumblr user mixedlance](http://mixedlance.tumblr.com/post/164873200213/)! who is also ao3 user [ashmes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashmes/pseuds/ashmes)! thanks air & sine for the beta! thanks lex for letting me yell at her!

Other Alteans.

There could be other Alteans.

There could be Alteans that survived the war, and for them to have survived over the past _ten_ _thousand years,_ that would mean a community spanning several generations! Alteans older than Allura! Alteans younger than Allura! Alteans the same age as Allura! And she tries not to let herself hope, but what a painful luxury it is to have. The endless possibilities drown her; she can barely breathe through the uncertainty.

“We have to see if anyone’s onboard,” Allura says, eyes never leaving the Altean ship before them.

Unfortunately, the team doesn’t seem to share her conviction.

“Uh.” Hunk gestures around the ship, at the wormhole-type structure that bisects it. “We all saw the same thing, right? Because I’m pretty sure the probe we sent over got vaporized into _less_ than space dust. And I’m also pretty sure the weird wormhole’s gonna do the same to us. The space dust not floating around? That’d be us.”

“Voltron's compositional strength far exceeds anything else in this universe,” Allura snaps, each passing tick grating against her. “Someone on that ship is alive enough to send out a distress signal— as Paladins of Voltron, it is our _duty_ to help.” And that should be that, but Keith crosses his arms, staring at Allura with a fixed intensity.

“Do you really believe that?” Keith asks, blunt as ever, and Allura bristles over what’s left unsaid.

“Do I believe what? That Voltron’s purpose is to protect the innocent? That we have a responsibility to save who we can?”

“I’m not sure you’re thinking about this like a paladin of Voltron,” he explains, infuriatingly level.

“ _I’m_ not—!? You’re the one willing to ignore a distress signal right in front of you!”

“I’m not saying we should ignore it.”

“Then what are you saying!”

“This isn’t just about Voltron for you, is it.” He frames it almost as a question, but Allura has been trained in the art of diplomacy, and Keith… hasn’t. Keith chases his own truth with a single-minded determination, dragging everyone along with him. Resentment simmers, but just for a second; Allura suppresses it with brutal efficiency.

”You’re right,” Allura says; terse, but civil. “I’m not just thinking as a Paladin of Voltron. I am also thinking as the princess of Altea. I need to know.” She keeps her voice steady as her fists clench. “If we just _leave_ —“

Leave? Leave the only possible remnants of Altean life? Leave the only evidence of Altea to exist beyond the castle walls, the only connection to Altea they’ve managed to find—

Coran puts a hand on her shoulder, and Allura takes a moment to collect herself. Being inarticulate serves no advantage here.

“You of all people should know how important it is to seize any chance at answers,” Allura says. The assertion lingers in the air; not quite an accusation, but perhaps a call for accountability. “I’ll do this myself if I have to.”

Transparency seems to soften the stern set of Keith’s brow. He’s been swayed, she knows he has, even if Keith himself doesn’t seem to acknowledge it. “I get this is important, but Voltron rushing in was what got us into trouble last time.”

Lance lets out a snort. “I think _you_ rushing in was what got us into trouble.”

“Yeah,” Keith admits, with no lack of resignation. “Me rushing in got us into trouble. I’m trying to learn from that mistake.”

“Is ‘doing nothing’ the lesson you’ve learned?” Allura challenges; while Keith has a legitimate point, so does she, and she refuses to yield to a debate she’s already won.

“Look,” Lance interrupts, before Keith can drag this pointless squabble out any longer. “We’re making this way more complicated than it needs to be. We all know that Voltron’s job is to do the hero thing. That’s what Voltron’s for! Right, Keith?”

Keith considers Lance for a moment, then sighs. “It’s what Voltron’s for,” he concedes.

“And checking out the weird space-hole to save whoever’s in trouble— that’s the hero thing to do, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And let’s be real, when does Voltron ever go ‘huh! That’s weird!’ and just fly away? There’s no way we wouldn’t check this out, right?”

“I guess not,” Keith admits, accepting a sound defeat by Lance’s logic.

“Then it sounds like we’re all on the same page!” Lance claps his hands together, clearly pleased with himself. “All we have to do is get in the cat-stack and we’ll be fine, right?”

Pidge lets out a hum of consideration, eyes scanning a constant stream of data across myriad screens. “I can’t say for sure, but if anything can handle this, it’s Voltron. Also,” she adds belatedly, “I’m with Allura and Lance. This is just too weird to ignore.”

“Hang on,” Coran protests, “even if this is an anomaly—“

“I mean,” Pidge interrupts, “it’s a pretty big anomaly.“

“—and even if this isn’t a trap, it’s far too dangerous to go in there! Princess Allura— _everyone_ — please, think this through.” And Allura, she can’t fault him for his protective instinct; they’re all that’s left of their world, after all. But they’ve thought this through, and they’ve made their decision.

“We must.” She puts her hand over Coran’s. “Even if the signal isn’t from an Altean, it could still be from someone who needs help,” Allura says, though admitting the possibility sends fractures through the fragile hope she holds. Still, she tries for a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to worry, we’ll return. It’ll take more than a slight anomaly to defeat Voltron.”

“Again— it’s a _pretty big_ anomaly.”

 

* * *

 

 At first, it seems they might’ve been too late. Ignoring other abnormalities— the castle no longer in sight, a planet suddenly before them— the only remains on the ship are traces of a crew long since passed. There are no sign of life.

Until there are.

“Guys,” Hunk says, waving everyone over. “You know how there weren’t biorhythms? There are now. It looks like there’s another ship docked— which, weird, it definitely wasn’t there before— and it looks like some of the crew’s heading right for us.”

“Should we be worried?” Pidge asks, her defensive stance betraying her position on the matter. “It could be whoever wiped out the crew.”

Allura readies her whip. “If it is, they must answer for what they’ve done.”

“We have to be cautious,” Keith says, gripping the black bayard. “Get ready.”

“Scanner’s saying they’re right around the corner—“

Two figures in full-body suits appear, white edged with gold, and something about the sight tugs at familiarity, except the design is nothing she’s ever seen before. There are similarities— the placement of accents, the angular details— but… she doesn’t quite recognize it.

Before she can say anything, the smaller of the two lets out a swear, fishing what must be a communication device out of a bag. “Possible hostiles, I repeat, possible hostiles in the starboard wing, they don’t seem to be the original crew, not that that would even be _possible_ —”

“Woah, hey,” Lance says, putting a placating hand up in the air, “who says we’re hostile? We just—”

The other figure raises a blaster, pointing it right at him, which causes a rapid chain of events. Keith, already on edge, springs forward with sword in hand only to be yanked back by the collar of his suit— Lance, yelling about ‘caution’ and ‘taking it slow’ and ‘whatever happened to _that_ plan, _Keith’_ , manages to drag their impulsive leader behind the shield he activates, while Hunk and Pidge activates shields of their own, and on the other side of the room, the smaller figure tries to tackle the larger one, as effective as a pebble bouncing off a mountain.

Allura stands in the back, lost in the chaos, and she _still_ doesn’t know if they’re Altean. “Wait,” she tries, as the smaller figure drowns out her attempt at communication with more yelling.

“Nasci! What are you doing!”

‘Nasci’ keeps a tight grip on the blaster. “You were the one who said they were ‘possible hostiles’.”

“I say a lot of things, that doesn’t mean you should go around pointing _dangerous weapons willy-nilly!”_

“If you could just listen—” Allura tries again, but to no avail.

“For all we know, these guys are the reason the distress signal got sent in the first place,” Nasci retorts.

“Right!” The smaller figure is, by now, leaning its full weight against the larger one, practically hanging off of Nasci’s arm. “Maybe _they’re_ the ones in distress!”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m pretty distressed right now.” Hunk waves from behind the translucent shield. “So like, if the goal here is to stop the distress, maybe put down the—”

This only draws the attention of the one holding the blaster, who swings it towards Hunk. “What did you do to the crew of this ship!” Nasci yells.

“What did _you_ do to the crew of this ship!” Lance yells, stepping right back into the line of fire. “We just got here!”

“Wait, please!” Allura interrupts, finally getting in-between the endless back-and-forth. With everyone’s attention on her, she takes off her helmet. “We mean you no harm. Are you Altean?”

The smaller figure lets out a gasp, audible even from across the room. “No way, no, this isn’t possible, this _can’t_ be possible.” Before Allura can ask what exactly can’t be possible, the figure follows suit by removing its helmet, revealing a shock of red hair curled around pointed ears, crescents that line the underside of each eye, and everything’s so unmistakably _Altean_.

“Dan?” Nasci asks, pinpoint focus shifting towards confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Put that down!” Dan, Dan the _Altean_ , slaps Nasci’s blaster to the ground. “Do you know who you’re pointing that at? Or, might be pointing that at?”

“No?”

“She’s— shut up, this is important!” Dan tosses the communication device to the side, heedless of what must be crescendoing protests emanating from it. Instead of paying attention to that, Dan gestures furiously, as if frantic energy alone could convey who Allura apparently might be. “She’s the most important figure in Altean history! I can’t believe this, all of Altea’s gonna _freak_ —”

“‘All of Altea’…?” Distantly, Allura hears a clatter. It’s her own bayard. Such details seem trivial at the moment.

Nasci, evidently giving up on a clear answer from Dan, turns to Allura. “Who are you?”

“I’m... Princess Allura.“

“She’s _Queen Allura!”_ Dan yells. “Wait, princess?”

“Queen?” Pidge repeats. “Altea? None of this makes sense. Unless—“

“You’re from another reality.” Nasci’s helmet comes off too, revealing… not Altean heritage.

Dan stares at Nasci. “They’re _what?”_

Keith stares at Nasci. “You’re Galra?”

“Half,” Nascie answers absently, belligerent suspicion now replaced by something far more neutral. “Don’t you ever listen when Slav starts going on?”

“He’s here too?” Lance asks, though neither seem to hear.

“I thought he was making sh— stuff up!” Dan exclaims. “I didn’t know that’d mean I’d meet Queen— Princess—? Her royal fu— her freakin’ majesty! Your majesty, we are _so_ sorry for this.”

“It’s— it’s alright,” Allura says, somewhat distantly. Altea. Another reality, another Altea. “I’m sorry, you are—?”

“Oh, no, I’ve been— how incredibly rude of me, allow me to introduce myself.” Dan straightens up, and dips forward into a stiff bow, dragging Nasci down as well. “I am Ms. Dantha Aerona Hegesnius Bitswhittle Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe. This is Nasci, sorry, they can be a little on-edge. And you’re Queen Allura! Princess! Majesty!”

“Wait— Wimbleton Smythe? _Hieronymus_ Wimbleton Smythe?” The familiar name only knocks Allura further off balance; she’s surprised she can still stand. “How— why—?”

“We— we were studying the ship, the wormhole, and— a distress signal,” Dantha explains, misunderstanding the source of her confusion. “And the, the wormhole— and you! Here!”

“Is this something we have to report to someone on Altea?” Nasci asks. “I don’t think training ever covered what to do when we run into alternate reality historical figures. Also, sorry for pointing a blaster at you.”

“It’s fine— Altea’s safe?” Allura asks, and if she gets one single straight-forward answer, let it be this one. “Altea exists?”

“Of course Altea exists.” Dantha stalls, staring at Allura with some dawning realization. “It… doesn’t for you?”

It’s a confirmation, but also a reminder of what Allura’s lost; Allura finds herself caught between an unfamiliar elation and a familiar grief. After a moment, Pidge clears her throat.

“In our reality, the Galra destroyed it ten thousand years ago,” she explains. “We’re fighting against Zarkon’s empire.”

“Zarkon?” Dantha blinks. “It’s been ten thousand years— he’s still alive?”

“No,” Pidge clarifies, “he’s not anymore. At least, we’re pretty sure he’s gone now.”

”’Now’, as in, it’s a recent development? How did he live— well, I guess Allura, too, so… wait, the same war has been going on for ten thousand years?”

Keith starts, completely taken aback. “There’s no war here?”

“I mean, somewhere in the universe I’m sure there’s something— hold on a tick, _you_ guys are fighting a war!?” Dantha exclaims, derailed by this new revelation. “You’re all children!”

“Come on,” Lance protests, “we can’t be _that_ much younger than you—”

“I’m two hundred six! Aside from her majesty, the oldest among you can’t be a day over one-fifty!”

“Never mind, that’s— yeah, Keith’s eighteen,” Lance concedes, backing off after such a decisive defeat.

“‘Teen’?” Dantha echoes, aghast. “You… you’re all infants…”

Hunk pats Dantha on the shoulder. “I mean if it makes you feel better, we have different lifespans. I think you guys live, like, ten times longer than us. Oof, that’s kind of depressing. I’m too young to have an existential crisis.”

“This…” Dantha leans against Nasci, holding her head in overt bewilderment. It’s been so easy to forget just how young the humans are; the reminder is jarring, something inane made incongruous when it should have never been inane in the first place. “This is a lot. Can we talk somewhere that’s not a weird alternate reality ghost ship?”

“It’s not the ship that’s an alternate reality—”

“Let’s head back to ours,” Dantha decides, cutting off Pidge’s explanation. “Yeah! Let’s go to our ship!”

Nasci passes over Dantha’s long-neglected communications device, a constant cacophony still echoing from it. “Everyone’s going to want an explanation from you.”

“Oh. Right. Well.” Dantha clears her throat, shoving the device into the bag. “Forget that, there’s someone you _need_ to talk to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want everyone to know in the middle of the night I woke up with a jolt and with the certainty that I absolutely needed lance to use the phrase 'cat-stack' to describe voltron


	2. libretto

“I knew it!” yells a rather distinct voice as Slav barrels into the team, shaking Dantha by the shoulders. “The comet containment chamber is indicating a possibility of destabilization! I  _knew_ it was too dangerous to investigate, we’ve just increased the probability of our entire universe collapsing on itself by twelve-point-seven percent!”

“He’s who we had to talk to?” Keith asks, eyeing Slav with no little skepticism.

“No.” Dantha wrestles off Slav, passing him off to Nasci. “And neither is Zeph, but they’re absolutely going to need to know about this. Hold on, I’ll just— let me fish them from the lab, get these introductions over—”

Dan runs off, leaving everyone in awkward silence.

It’s strange, seeing a familiar face without any traces of recognition. This is Slav— that much is abundantly clear— but there’s little anyone can be certain of aside from that. It’s a peculiar balance, a one-sided familiarity that doesn’t actually lend itself to much familiarity at all.

Well. If Allura’s honest, alternate Slav and the ambiguity of his relationship to Voltron isn’t foremost on her mind. After the whirlwind of information about this reality— a whirlwind of scraps, really, and that’s being generous— Allura’s not sure what to ask. She has so many questions, it’s difficult to isolate which one to start with.

“So,” Lance drawls, breaking the silence, “what exactly are you guys doing here?”

“Graduate study,” Nasci says.

They don’t elaborate.

After a rather lengthy pause, Pidge clears her throat. “Studying what?”

Nasci shrugs. At least some gestures are recognizable across realities. “A comet. Found it in here a while ago; we’ve been studying it ever since. Wasn’t expecting the ten-thousand-year-old ship it was in to send out a distress signal, but Dan insisted we had to do a sweep of the place. Slav was against it—”

“Because it was a bad idea!”

“—but,” Nasci continues, ignoring Slav’s interruption, “Sven agreed it was worth checking out, so we did.” After a moment, they put Slav back on the ground.

“Hold on, a comet?” Pidge turns to the other paladins with obvious interest. “Wasn’t there something in the ship’s log about a comet?”

”No, wait, I don’t think that’s the part we need to focus on.” Hunk stares at Nasci, looking somewhat appalled. “What about the quintessence wormhole? The one that like, vaporizes everything that isn’t Voltron? Have you guys just been studying the comet right next to instant _death!?”_

“It’s fine.”

“How is that fine!”

“We’ve been studying it, and it’s been fine.”

Seeing just how unsatisfactory Hunk finds that answer, Nasci waves a hand, bringing out a hologram of the ship and the wormhole. “The comet in the ship is bisected by the portal. We keep a distance considered ‘safe enough’ from quintessence exposure— most of the ship’s blocked off because of that. It’s been a problem; we haven’t been able to get a sample of that comet the entire time we’ve been studying it.”

Judging from their tone, such safety precautions are regarded as an inconvenience rather than perfectly reasonable procedures necessary for self-preservation. Which explains a lot about them.

“But,” they continue, “if your ship was strong enough to travel across realities…” They tilt their head, eyeing Pidge with consideration. “Zeph’s really going to want to talk to you.”

“Did you even hear what I said!?” Slav stretches up to his full height, not quite towering over Nasci. “Something is already happening with the comet, and it’s not good!”

“‘Possibly’ happening, you said. Let’s wait until we get more observable data before we panic.”

While these are very good questions yielding very important information, they’re somewhat less relevant to Allura’s interests. “Why are you all wearing Altean suits?” she blurts out, unable to contain herself any longer. “What are we all doing on an Altean ship?”

“We’re sponsored by an Altean school,” Nasci explains. Perhaps it’s for the best that the team was left in their care; at the very least, Nasci offers simple answers delivered with a surprising amount of patience. “It was the only place that would put up with Slav’s demands. He’s pretty famous for being ‘difficult to work with’.”

Slav crosses several of his arms, apparently familiar with such accusations. “I don’t see what’s ‘difficult’ about being conscious of statistically significant concerns.”

“I think I know someone who disagrees,” Nasci says. And, with how strange this entire experience has been, it seems impossible that things could possibly get stranger. Yet, things get stranger as Shiro rushes in, looking harried and irate.

“There are five massive robot lions around the ship,” he says, except it comes out. Strange. “Does anyone want to explain why there are five massive robot lions around the ship? What on earth did you two find on the ship? And where’s Dantha, she knows she’s not supposed to ignore the comms—”

“Shiro!” Lance exclaims. “What happened to your voice!?”

“Who?” Shiro, or, the man who looks like Shiro shakes his head. “I’m Sven.”

Of course. Alternate realities.

This is taking some time to get used to.

Sven— not Shiro, Sven— turns his attention to Slav. “Will you stop running off like that? If you’re going to drag me to some remote corner of the galaxy, you could stop being so difficult for once!”

Slav scoffs. “Galaxies don’t have ‘corners’, and if you’ve ever paid attention to a single thing I’ve said, you’d have learned such a basic fact by now.”

“They teach together,” Nasci answers, in response to the questioning looks sent their way. “Slav says it lowers his odds of getting kidnapped by three percent.”

“Three-point-twenty-nine,” Slav corrects.

Keith stares at Sven. He probably hasn’t stopped staring since Sven’s entrance. “That’s not a lot.”

“I’ve kept him out of trouble so far, haven’t I?” Sven retorts, evidently taking Keith’s attention as hostility. “Trust me, it’s not an easy job. It’s not supposed to be my job in the first place.”

“This is really freaking me out.” Hunk runs a hand through their hair, knocking their headband askew. “You look just like our Shiro. Except the hair. And no scar. And the clothes are different. It’s _weird._ ”

“Sorry, who are you? Who are these people?” Sven asks, turning to Nasci. “Where did they come from?”

“They’re from an alternate reality.”

_“What—“_

“Back! I’m back,” Dantha announces, dragging behind her another Altean just as Slav drags Sven off— presumably to fill him in on recent developments, and possibly some additional statistics. “Great, you’ve met the profs, this is Zeph!”

“I swear, if you pulled me away from the comet for another one of your—“ The new figure, slightly short, dark skin and darker hair, stares at Allura. “What the f— ow,” they say, as Dantha stomps on their foot. “I can’t believe it. I thought you were playing some extremely weird prank, but, yeah, she looks… just like the holos. That’s definitely her. You’re definitely you,” they announce to Allura.

It’s torturous, knowing so little and constantly being reminded of that fact. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Allura says, because it really is, and even her growing irritation isn’t enough to drown out the burst of breathless exhilaration at seeing yet another Altean. “I am Allura, princess of an alternate reality Altea, and with me are the paladins of Voltron: Keith, Hunk, Lance, and Pidge. Now, will someone please tell me what happened to Altea? What happened to your Allura? What happened with the war?”

“Well…” Dantha trails off, a sheepish set to her expression. “History was never my best subject, to be honest.”

“Or mine,” Zeph says.

“I don’t know anything about it,” Nasci says.

“But, I can give a general summary,” Dantha continues, and thank goodness.

Dantha clears her throat. “So, the war went on for a few hundred years before you became queen, and then it kept going some hundreds of years after. Zarkon was… pouring a lot of resources into this bomb, right? And this is like, a big deal type of bomb, a bomb that could end the war in one hit. But the thing is, it was… stuff related to quintessence? I think? He and Hil— Ha…? The science-witch, they put a lot of faith in the bomb, but they kind of neglected everything outside of it. So while they were focusing on it, there was… ‘discontent from within the empire due to a depletion of resources’.” Dantha sounds out the phrase as if reciting it from a textbook. She may very well be, for all Allura knows. “Maybe that wouldn’t have mattered if the bomb worked, but it didn’t, because Queen Allura took that quintessence and _absorbed_ it.”

Absorbing quintessence… Allura’s familiar with channeling it, with direct contact, but absorbing an amount large enough to qualify as a weapon of mass destruction…

“She did that?” Allura asks.

“You did that,” Dantha confirms. “And because Altean forces didn’t take that hit, the Alteans were able to stay on the offense while rebels sabotaged the empire from within. The empire couldn’t defend on both fronts, so there was a coup and Zarkon was… well…” Dantha trails off, eyeing the paladins. “He was. Deposed. Enthusiastically deposed. And people made treaties. I think some of them are technically still in effect.”

“What happened to Allura?” Lance asks. He’s wide-eyed with rapt attention; if he had a seat, he’d be at the edge of it.

“That’s the thing! After absorbing the bomb, she just— she disappeared.”

Every time Allura gets an answer, it just leads to more questions. Will this reality ever tire of the endless chain of mysteries upon mysteries?

“Wait.” Keith crosses his arms, brows furrowed in thought. “Altea didn’t fall apart without Allura? Who was the leader?”

“This gets into fuzzy territory for me—“

“Because it’s not about Queen Allura.”

“ _—But_ ,” Dantha continues, glaring at Zeph, “The queen set up a pretty transparent chain of command. I think one of her generals stepped up. The general’s kid was a tool, though, so that royal line didn’t last.”

Lance gasps. “Someone assassinated them!?”

“What? No, of course not,” Dantha says, taken aback by such a violent assumption. “Altea was still a conditional monarchy back then. Anyone can challenge the throne through a combination of combat and debate, but it only works out if the majority of the planet sides with the challenger, and that only happens for really shi— uh, sucky rulers. Sometimes people challenge the throne just to get everyone talking about specific policies, but a lot of people would rather correct than initiate a coup, and people who _really_ want to be the ruler tend to be pretty unpopular. Extremely unpopular.”

“Alright, enough about that boring stuff,” Zeph announces, promptly derailing the conversation by shoving Dantha aside. “Let’s talk about the biggest mystery in all of Altean history: what happened to Queen Allura? Any guesses?”

“She… died?” offers Keith, only to be elbowed rather bodily by Lance.

“Keith!” Lance hisses. “Don’t be _rude_ , she’s right there!”

“‘She’ can hear you,” Allura points out, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. She turns to Zeph, schooling her expression into something more suitably diplomatic— hopefully one that encourages answers. “What happened to your Allura?”

“There are several theories, actually!” Zeph, absolutely delighted by the interest, needs no further prompting. “A lot of people think the quintessence overload was too much and it disintegrated her body. Some people think so much quintessence actually enabled her to transcend space-time and exist in a perpetual state of quantum superimposition. And others— a small amount, but significant enough to note— others think she reconfigured the universe to ensure stability through ascending to a quintessential plane.”

Hunk raises their hand in a steady, glacial movement. After Zeph gestures to them they blurt out, “People think Allura’s some sort of god?”

“A reductive way of looking at it, but yes. Let me tell you, Allura’s appearance— any Allura’s appearance— would ruin quite a few cults.”

“Cults!?” Alternate realities are well and good, but what Allura cannot accept is the existence of cults in her name.

“They’re exaggerating!” Dantha assures, cutting in front of Zeph before they can elaborate. “There were a few, uh, alternative beliefs that were established after your disappearance, some kind of prominent ones, but it’s been ten-thousand years! They’ve fizzled out into… superstition… minor rituals... some small altars…”

“Altars,” Allura repeats. She doesn’t feel all too reassured.

“Can you blame them?” Lance, taking a certain tone that often preludes his specific brand of nonsense, shoots Allura a wink. “Who _wouldn’t_ want to worship you?”

Pidge drags a hand down her face, heaving a heavy sigh. “Just, do us all a favor and ignore him. In any case, wasn’t there someone we were supposed to talk to?”

“I’m so glad you asked!” Dantha says, wholeheartedly embracing the change in subject with a rather theatrical flourish. “If we’re all done here, I think it’s time for us to meet grandpa.”

There’s one excruciatingly obvious guess as to who ‘grandpa’ could be, but at this point, Allura has no idea what to expect. In the face of her silence, however, Dantha deflates, losing her dramatic flair.

“You do know him, right?” she asks, uncertain. “Oh f— shoot, if it turns out you don’t, this whole big reveal is a huge—”

“Is ‘grandpa’ supposed to be Coran?” Pidge asks, prompting Lance to sputter in disbelief.

“Grandpa Coran!?”

“Well, yeah. You heard her name, right?”

“How often do we say his full name!” Lance protests, clutching at any defensible justification to his shock. “We only call him Coran! I’m not going to remember— what was it, Jerónimo? Smith? And hey, Smith is a very common name, alright!”

“There’s a pretty strong resemblance,” Hunk points out.

“Not everyone who looks alike is going to be related! Besides! It’s been ten-thousand years! He can’t just be _grandpa!”_

“He’s actually my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandpa,“ Dantha clarifies in an incredible display of lung capacity, “but calling him ‘grandpa’ is just easier for everyone. Come on, I’ll introduce you!”

“You guys go on ahead,” Pidge says. “I want to see if Green can get a sample of that comet.”

“What!” Zeph turns their attention to Pidge with astonishing speed. “Samples? Comet samples!? Samples from the comet!? When was anyone going to mention this— we need to go right now!”

“Hunk, stick with Pidge. We’ll go with the princess.” Keith shoots them a meaningful look, and while it’s sensible course of action to ensure no one on the team is left on their own, it highlights Keith’s continued suspicion in a grating way; he could stand to learn some subtlety.

Dantha stares after the enthusiastic procession of scientists with a similar irritation, though for different reasons. “I can’t believe it,” she gripes. “A version of Her Majesty is right here, in the flesh, and all they care about is their comet!”

“Comets are more interesting.”

“Astrophysicists!” Dantha shakes her head, despairing at Nasci’s assertion. “You’re all the same! If trans-reality contact with a group of people _including the most significant figure in Altean history_ is too _boring_ for you, go on ahead!”

“Zeph can take care of themself.”

“Oh, and I can’t?”

The silence, it appears, is answer enough.

Lance coughs. “So, you’re an astrophysicist?” he asks, staring at Nasci. “Why do you have a gun?”

“Space is dangerous,” they say.

 

* * *

 

The problem is: Allura knows who to expect, but not who she’ll meet. Slav, at least, was more of a passing acquaintance— a one-sided familiarity isn’t too significant when it’s a level of familiarity that could be gained after ten ticks in the same room with him. Coran is someone she’s known her whole life. What will she recognize in him? What won’t she?

When they reach the control room, Allura braces herself. For what, she doesn’t know. It does little to prepare her for Coran’s form to flicker to life right in front of the group, prompting a startled half-shriek from Lance.

“Your majesty!” Coran dips forward in a sweeping bow. “Welcome to our reality! I hope you’ve been accommodated to your satisfaction— oh, I can’t do this,” he says, promptly bursting into tears. He takes Allura’s hand, though it takes some logistical finagling; his intangibility only allows for motion, not contact. “Princess Allura, it’s so good to see you! Any you! I never thought it could ever be possible, and yet! Here you are!”

There’s a certain feedback loop, being on the other end of such unbridled joy; Allura laughs, letting herself get swept up in it. “Coran!” she exclaims. “It’s so wonderful to see a familiar face!” And it is. He’s different— older than she knows him to be, streaks of silver interrupting his bright red hair, lines of laughter edging his eyes, and, of course, he’s digitized— but he’s unmistakably Coran. “You’ve been here? All this time?”

“Yep! Well, not _here-_ here,” he corrects. “This is a facet of my personality core. If the subject of study involves a ten-thousand-year-old Altean ship, who better to study it than a ten-thousand-year-old Altean! Besides, have to keep an eye on Dantha here! Who knows what trouble she’d get into otherwise.”

_“Grandpa!”_

“I’m a good method of long-distance communication, you see,” Coran continues, heedless of Dantha’s mortification. “Any problems and zip! Off to the main core it goes. Well the main core, being me, _already_ knows so there’s not actually that much zipping, but you get the idea.”

“This is—“ well, it’s a lot to take in. “How many others have been made into AIs? Was… was my father…?”

Dantha moves to place a hand on Allura’s shoulder, then stops herself short. Instead, she clears her throat. “Grandpa’s the only AI of his era.  King Alfor… well, admittedly I don’t know much about him. But! You, personally, were against digitization. You thought having static authority would hold Altea back, according to multiple sources.”

“We had a lot of disagreements over that.” Coran chuckles, taken by nostalgia. “Strange, since neither of us were fans of the practice.”

“Really?” Keith asks. “Then why are you—?”

Lance elbows him before he can finish. Thankfully, Coran doesn’t seem to take offense.

“After the war there weren’t many people my age left; we lost quite a lot. But since I’m here, it all may be gone, but not forgotten! Someone had to make sure these little tykes learned their history!” He strikes a suitably self-important pose, an obvious attempt to bring levity back into the atmosphere. Then, “Wait a tick, who are you?”

“I’m Keith. This is Lance. We’re paladins of Voltron.”

“Voltron, huh? Never heard of it.” What a jarring phrase to hear from Coran, of all people. “In any case, thank you for keeping Allura safe. Still, going through the quintessence wormhole was extremely dangerous. I can’t believe you lot did something like that!”

“Y’know,” Lance says, “that’s basically what our Coran told us.”

“Then you should’ve listen to him! I’m glad you didn’t, but still!”

Before anyone can respond to that, a shudder runs through the whole ship; not quite a physical sensation, but there’s some charge through the atmosphere that knocks everybody off balance, the sheer amount of energy almost overwhelming. Even Coran flickers slightly, which is more than a little alarming.

“What happened,” Nasci barks into their comms, steadying Dantha with their other hand— they’ve been so quiet, Allura very nearly forgot they were in the room.

There’s a commotion, and at least one distinct ‘I told you so’ from Slav before the comm’s wrested away from him— apparently by Hunk.

“Hey, guys?” they start, amidst the ambient sound of continuing background chaos. “The wormhole’s gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire fic has been 6+ person dialogue hell send help 
> 
> anyway, zeph is basically a proxy oc of air's - I took some direct quotes from them while writing. also, I was looking up the etymology of Coran's name to figure out how to name Dantha, and Jerónimo is the Spanish version of Hieronymus


	3. D.C. al Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [lil doodle of the ocs](http://obstinaterixatrix.tumblr.com/post/167771080254/)

As Allura understands it, it’s displacement; Voltron’s arrival to the adjacent reality tipped some balance of energy, the disruption of equilibrium causing the wormhole to dissipate in such a way that stranded everyone on this end of it.

“It’s not a lost cause,” Pidge assures, as she wraps up her explanation. “We can get back as long as we hit the exact spot we entered from. But…”

“You’d need to use the comet as a conduit,” Zeph finishes. “It’s the only way to reopen the wormhole.”

“Honestly, out of all the realities, this outcome is by far the best.” Slav laughs, completely unaffected by the somber atmosphere. “I don’t know why I was so worried. We could’ve been the reality that collapsed in on itself!”

“That’s not our reality, right?” Lance asks, edging towards panic. 

Sven nudges Slav to the side before he can say anything else. “Your reality is fine. The only problem is that since this is a trans-reality object, there’s a chance the comet might pull you into a reality other than your own.”

Simultaneously, everyone turns back to Slav. “I could tell you the base statistic, but you’re not going to like it,” he warns. “Not to worry— using materials on the ship, we should be able to make something that helps synchronize the comet to your reality. It won’t take much to channel your Allura’s affinity for quintessence; we just have to make sure these calculations are correct. Don’t want our sixty-three-point-seven percent chance of success to turn into a one hundred percent chance of failure!”

“That’s… not a super high chance of success,” Lance hedges.

“And you guys are fine with us taking the comet?” Hunk asks. “There’s not gonna be any, like, ‘no how dare you give it back’, right?”

“Of course not,” Zeph snaps, before realizing the potential contradiction in their hostile tone. They take a deep breath and, with discernable effort, they shift their scowl into a strained smile. “I am completely okay with these developments. I am not moping. Everything is fine.“ After that convincing performance, they drop off back into a more neutral expression. “Look, just give me time, alright? I’m trying to hyper-cycle through my grieving process.”

“I don’t like this.” Dantha, silent until this protest, activates a variety of holoscreens with wildly fluctuating graphs and numbers. “Even with the advantage of Princess Allura’s affinity for quintessence, it’s an extremely volatile source of energy; we don’t know how long the residual quintessence will last, or exactly how much is needed for a successful wormhole. And if it works, it’ll take a lot out of them! Relying on quintessence is just too risky!”

Keith crosses his arms, resolute. “It’s a risk we have to take.”

“Or you could stay!” Dantha blurts out.

“Dan,” Nasci says, in what sounds like a warning.

“Look, this reality isn’t perfect, but it could be good for you! You’d be safe here, not caught up in some ten-thousand-year-old war!”

The offer… well, it’s not unexpected, but nonetheless, it knocks the breath out of Allura. Stay? Stay here? There’s a tension in the atmosphere, a weighty feeling of certainty; no one else has to consider it.

“I mean, sure it sounds safer here,” Hunk concedes, “but it’s not home.”

“It could be!”

“Look.” Lance rubs the back of his neck, uncharacteristically solemn. “I get what you’re trying to say, but we can’t just abandon our reality. Zarkon’s gone, but it is  _ not _ a good situation over there. We’ve got people waiting for us. And besides, we don’t even know if Earth exists in this reality.”

“That’s where Sven’s from! Right, Sven?” 

“But it’s not our Earth,” Pidge says, ignoring Sven’s subdued nod.

“Dan,” Nasci repeats, this time placing a hand on her shoulder. At once, all the agitation seems to seep out of her.

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s just… you never got to see the galaxy at peace. It’s right here, and we never even got to show you.” She stares at Allura, heartrendingly earnest. “Just think about it, alright?”

There’s nothing that can really be said, afterwards. Those with assigned tasks filter out of the room, headed off to perform their respective duties. The rest linger in the control room with uncertainty; Allura can feel the weight of their stares, even as she refuses to meet them.

 

* * *

 

It’s no surprise that Keith seeks her out. Despite his impulsive streak, he can be quite predictable; of course he’d go out of his way to find Allura while she’s searching for solace in solitude. But he’s here, most likely for leader-related duties he’s reluctant to execute, and the two of them are left with no choice but to resign themselves to each other’s company. 

“Returning to Altea… it seemed like such an impossible dream, I could never allow myself the thought,” Allura says, eventually. If Keith refuses to leave, he may as well lend her an ear. “I should have known better than to hope otherwise.”

It isn’t fair. And it feels juvenile to qualify the situation in such a way, as if the universe has ever operated in terms of ‘fairness’, but Allura can’t quite crush the helpless indignation that settles in her like a stone.

“Allura—”

“Don’t. I know what you’re going to say.”

Keith stalls. “If you do, that’d definitely make it easier for me.”

“I am fully aware that I have a responsibility,” she asserts; clear and curt, a direct statement to streamline this unnecessary encounter. “I’m not some— some wayward  _ child _ that requires your attention.”

“That’s not what I’m here to say.”

“Then what! You think—“

“It’s okay to want this.”

That gives Allura pause. She knows she’s entirely too transparent in a way unbecoming of a princess, unbecoming of a paladin, but to have it addressed so frankly with such platitudes— it‘s insulting, and she has no one to blame but herself. “I don’t see why you’re concerning yourself with what I want,” she says, attempting a cool dismissal. “I can assure you, my actions will not be in conflict with Voltron’s mission.”

Keith sighs, not taking the hint. Or, more accurately, ignoring the extremely conspicuous golden-edged invitation to cordially leave her alone. He’s absolutely determined to impart some sort of meaningful lesson where it’s not needed, it seems. “Look. I think everyone knows I’m not really the best person for talking about stuff, but you need to know that this is a choice you have to make.”

“There  _ is _ no choice,” Allura insists. “I can’t leave Voltron without a blue paladin—“

“That’s a choice.”

“—I can’t leave our reality in peril—“

“That’s a choice.”

“—I can’t leave Coran behind—“

“That’s a choice, too.”

“Well it shouldn’t be! What kind of person am I if I have to deliberate on this!” And that’s, perhaps, the most unsettling aspect of this entire situation. If anything, Allura thought she could rely on herself to do the right thing without hesitation. Faced with evidence otherwise… “There shouldn’t be a choice to make,” she repeats.

“There is. That’s what makes it important,” Keith says, stubborn as always. “Allura, I’m not just here as the leader. I get how it is. Some choices are hard to make— not because you don’t know what to choose, but because you do. Knowing doesn’t make it any easier.” 

And, as much as Allura hates to admit it, there’s something in Keith’s words that resonates with her. 

“It’s still your choice. I’m not going to take it from you. None of us will. Just remember that, alright?”

With that, Keith takes takes his leave, letting Allura mull over his words in the solace she so adamantly sought.

 

* * *

 

There’s a limit to how long Allura allows herself brood alone, especially with such limited time left in this reality. The pool of people she’s willing to talk to is similarly constrained, and with everyone so busy, her options are smaller still.

Luckily, the person she wants to talk with is quite adept at multitasking.

“Coran?” Allura calls, stepping into one of the recreation rooms. “Are you there?”

“Technically, I’m everywhere! But, for privacy’s sake, I try not to be unless specifically asked for.” Coran steps weightlessly into view, partially translucent and static around the edges. “What can I do for you, princess?”

“We were close, weren’t we?” The question comes out altogether too vulnerable for Allura’s tastes, but she presses on. “In this reality?”

“We were.” It’s a simple confirmation accompanied by an achingly familiar fondness— one she’s used to being on the other end of. “I’ve been telling stories about you to my grandchildren for thousands of years, you know.”

Now that gives her pause. “You have?”

“Where do you think Dantha got all her history from! Not that she ever remembered much of it; she was only ever interested in you. That’s what got her into studying quintessence, actually.” He shoots Allura a conspiratorial wink. “Don't let her know I told you.”

Allura laughs, taken by a helpless affection. “Your secret’s safe with me. Her secret, rather.“ There’s a moment where she reconsiders— does this count as arrogance?— before she resolves herself. “Could you tell me those stories?” Allura asks. “What was she like?”

“She was incredible,” Coran says without hesitation. “Queen Allura was a wonderful leader, incredibly driven and deeply compassionate— just like you.”

Allura’s smile takes a rueful edge. “You don’t know that.”

“Trust me, I know an Allura when I see one.” Coran twirls his mustache, a practiced, absent motion. “Of course, she wasn’t perfect. Not a god, as much as people wanted to believe it; she was an Altean. As much of a person as you or I. Well, you I suppose.”

“Coran…” Allura doesn’t quite overcome the instinct to reach out, which… well. It probably doesn’t provide the comfort she was aiming for. 

“Oh, never mind that.” He waves off— through— her hand, evidently quite used to such missteps. “What I mean is, she always acted as if she had to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. Multiple worlds, in fact. She was always the queen, the general, the diplomat, but somewhere down the line she stopped letting herself be ‘Allura’.”

Coran heaves a sigh, one somewhat incongruous with his intangible form. Old habits die hard, it seems. Or maybe the illusion of breath is for the benefit of those around him.

“I wish I could’ve made her realize that she wasn’t alone. That it wasn’t up to her to save the universe. Sure, there’s a lot she could do— a lot she  _ did _ do— but she was just one person! If only… well. After ten-thousand years, you collect a lot of ‘if only’s.”

There’s a misalignment, the two of them engaging with iterations of who they truly wish to talk to, and yet… she’s Allura. He’s Coran. There’s a recognizable kinship in that.

“If I have any connection with your Allura, I can say with certainty that she treasured your support,” she says. “You were… you  _ are _ like a father to me. Even if I am, on occasion, too stubborn to follow your advice.”

He scoffs. “Now, don’t get me started on that. I could go on for years!”

“I’m sure you could.” There’s little doubt in Allura’s mind that such an assertion is no idle threat. But, she thinks she understands what Coran was trying to tell his Allura. What he’s trying to tell her. 

They spend a few more moments in companionable silence before Allura asks, “Do you think Dantha would mind talking about Altea?”

“Princess, I can guarantee she’d be absolutely delighted to.”

 

* * *

 

Allura spends the rest of her time in this reality talking about Altea. She reminisces with Coran, she watches an enthusiastic Dantha reenact recent developments (enlisting Nasci for dramatics that are more involved), and she learns quite a bit when Zeph— in their limited free time— stops by with anecdotes about anyone and anything.

Together they regale the paladins with stories; their audience is, for the most part, Lance and Keith, but Pidge and Hunk stop by when they’re able. The sights of Altea, the culture, the history, the food, even the weather, there’s nothing too mundane for her. Nothing too mundane for the paladins, either, judging from their reactions to perfectly natural meteorological phenomena.

It feels like barely any time passes before it’s time to leave, but Allura gathers herself, turning to face her gracious hosts.

“You can’t stay, right?” Dantha grins, a valiant effort at gaiety. “I mean, I figured.”

“I wish I could,” Allura says, even as something in her recoils at the admission. But, she’s made her choice. “Thank you for everything.”

“Yeah, what she said.” Hunk waves, a little sheepish. “Sorry we have to take your research,” 

“It’s fine,” Nasci says. If Allura’s eyes aren’t playing tricks on her, a smile just might be tugging at the corner of their mouth. “We have a sample now.”

”Oh yeah, I’m over it,” Zeph agrees. “It’s going to be so much easier to study now that we don’t have to work in another room. We are going to study the… heck out of it,” they say, throwing a glance towards Dantha. “But it’s kind of disappointing. As far as trans-reality revelations go, we didn’t learn much. We still don’t know what happened to Queen Allura, or who sent that distress signal. All we learned was space is weird, imperialism sucks, and Dantha’s a nerd. Which we already knew, so.”

“Alright,” Sven announces, walking into the control room before Dantha can respond, “Pidge finished attaching the device to the comet, so it should—“

“No time for explanations,” Slav cuts in, “we’ve got to move! Time is of the essence!”

“Now? Wait, wait, hold on—“ Dan sprints off before anyone can inform her that waiting isn’t an option, but she returns just as quick, ferrying a potted flower that she thrusts unceremoniously at Allura.

Allura stares at it, almost speechless. “It’s a juniberry.” Not the most inspired observation, but it’s a juniberry. The pink blossoms, the sweet fragrance that hangs in the air, overwhelmingly nostalgic… it’s a juniberry.

“I got this—“ Dantha wheezes, still catching her breath, “—to remind me of home. Take it. Don’t do the, the, ‘no, I couldn’t,’ take, it’s yours.”

“I can’t even begin to tell you how much this means to me,” Allura says, even as she tries to find the words.

“Don’t worry, just— tell alternate grandpa I said hi! And remember! There’s an entire reality that loves you!”

Startled by such a bold proclamation, Allura lets out a laugh. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“Is it really alright for your girlfriend to be declaring reality-wide love for her alternate reality idol?” Zeph asks, an aside to Nasci.

“I know what I signed up for. Besides, it’s true,” they say, a fully discernable smile on their face. They turn to face all the paladins. “Good luck. Show ‘em what you’ve got.”

“We will,” Allura promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW ALRIGHT THANKS FOR READING. this is kinda different from what I usually do, so I hope it was a fun time! here's some notes:
> 
> -Dantha studies quintessence, Nasci and Zeph are astrophysicists, Slav is quantum physicist with a specialization in multiverse theory and engineering, and Sven is... a flight instructor who got caught up in space shenanigans. people think he's also a scientist because he rattles off a bunch of stuff he absorbs from being surrounded by science things but no. scientists just never shut up. he's a proxy scientist now.
> 
> -Dantha's done quite a lot of research into cults and rituals and altars associated with Allura. she never actively practiced anything... but... she'd do stuff like pick up knickknacks that remind her of Allura and put them all together in a way that's maybe... suspiciously... close to operating functionally as a personal shrine. She had the juniberry to remind of home, but also because it's well documented (by coran) as allura's favorite flower. in the throes of academia hell, there was more than one occasion where she thought "allura if you're out there please let me pass this class". ironically, but also,
> 
> -Nasci's good with kids because the endless 'why's always end up getting answered in some way. people describe them as patient, but really, they don't see any kind of explanation as something that needs patience per se; the reason they got into astronomy is because they liked learning explanations, and they wanted to find explanations. it's very 'to understand yourself, you have to understand the cosmos', except they skipped over the 'self' bit because who cares about self when there's space to study.
> 
> -Zeph is the oldest, but they look the youngest. they'll lean into this any way that gets them an advantage; they're either 'hey respect your elders' or 'do I really look like I can be the responsible one? I'm so small. someone else be the adult.'
> 
> -the reason no historical society is raising a fuss about preservation is because 1) there's enough ships well-persevered that 2) aren't stuck in a giant mystery wormhole. why aren't there more safety procedures? scientists do what they want. also, slav's there. coran too. they'll keep everyone safe.
> 
> -coran's everyone's grandpa. doesn't matter if you're related or not he's your gramps.
> 
> -tbh with this kind of trajectory, I probably would've written the rest of the episode like... team voltron manages to fight off the other folks and keep at least half the comet, everyone's like 'not a total loss! we'll get it back! let's keep moving forward!'. in the series finale the oc crew comes back in time to help out with the final battle.


End file.
